Mark Reads to Harry Potter
by snappydog
Summary: A short fanfic by way of an apology to Mark Oshiro, a man I deeply respect.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a fanfic about Harry Potter and Mark Oshiro. Recently Mark set up a system whereby you could pay him to make a video of him reading a fic of your choice, and I commissioned one of a certain fic which I hadn't read for a while – nor even had ever finished – but remembered being somewhat ridiculous, so I wanted him to read it. However, it contained offensive language and I effectively forced Mark to make himself incredibly uncomfortable on camera, something which I sincerely and deeply regret. As an apology… Well, I have attempted to apologise to him through every channel I could think of, but ultimately my feelings of remorse wouldn't go away until I did this. I'm going to pay Mark once more, this time to read a fanfic about himself, and hope he can forgive me for my mistake.

As always at the start of a year at Hogwarts, the Great Hall was palpably buzzing with excitement from its hundreds of students. (Luna, hearing the buzzing, swatted a Nargle away with a rolled-up newspaper.) The Sorting had been finished, they had all eaten far more than their fill – except Ron – and a general mood of contentment filled the air. Conversation around the tables covered almost all imaginable subjects, from first-years being reassured that school wasn't all that bad really to Prefects working out how best to inconvenience the most interesting-looking students (for that was, in actuality, all they really did). However, by far the most popular topic was, of course, who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be.  
'Maybe it'll be someone who actually lasts more than a year,' piped up one naïve second-year. He was quickly silenced by the raised eyebrows of those around him, in which the word 'really?' was clearly legible.  
'I miss Professor Colbert,' another sighed, to which the general response was a lot of dreamy sighing.  
Dumbledore stood, and the giant hall immediately became silent, apart from one seventh-year who'd snuck in a bottle of vodka and kept hiccupping. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' the Headmaster began, 'I am well aware that my speeches are often considered too long, so allow me to head straight to the point of the matter. Please welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor: Professor Oshiro!'  
There was a general smatter of applause (Neville, clad in the most BAMF cardigan of all time, and Luna, for some reason leapt to their feet and whooped) as the new professor emerged into the hall.  
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other.  
Hermione, the most observant of the three, whispered, 'He looks a little different.'  
Ron, the most profanitalicious of the three, whispered, 'Bloody hell.'  
Harry, the most reckless of the three, whispered, 'He's probably a Death Eater. We should kill him.'  
'Stop assuming every teacher is a Death Eater!' Hermione hissed, but she quickly hushed as Professor Oshiro glanced their way.  
He looked different to most of the other professors: on his hands and neck, which were not covered by his custom leather robes, large tattoos were clearly visible.  
'The Dark Mark!' Harry muttered urgently; this particular comment was met with facepalms all round.  
'Professor Oshiro will now say a few words...' Dumbledore murmured, falling lazily back into his unnecessarily extravagant throne.  
'Call me Mark,' Mark said, waving his hand at the Headmaster in what could have been a magical way, but was more likely just sassy. He strode to the centre of the raised teachers' platform and cleared his throat. 'I would like to –' he began loudly, but broke off and glanced at Hagrid. 'He-llooo.' The two exchanged brief winks, much to the bewilderment of all present. 'Ahem. I would like to say… Er… Hi. I'm Mark. I just think this year is gonna be SO great. I do. It's gonna be fantastic. Er… Yeah, that's pretty much it. Stay in school.'  
What was perhaps the shortest introductory speech from a professor ever was met with a brief silence, immediately followed by tumultuous applause. Mark hopped casually over the teachers' table and waved a hand in what was this time an actual magical gesture, summoning a chair next to Hagrid's and settling into it casually.  
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other again. 'I hope we have him soon,' Ron said through a mouthful of potato, for he was always eating.

And indeed they did have him soon; Defence Against the Dark Arts was their first lesson.  
'Except –' Harry began to grumble -  
'- With the Slytherins,' Ron groaned, holding up his timetable by one corner as if it were smeared with Bubotuber pus.  
'I rather think this could be fun,' Hermione said in response, an almost uncharacteristic grin spreading across her face as they headed for Mark's classroom.  
'How come?'  
'Have you seen him? Can you really imagine the Slytherins are going to be any trouble at all for him?'  
Harry and Ron's faces suddenly began to contort into a mix of delight and utter sadism as they pondered what was to come.  
They turned the corner to Mark's classroom, spotting Neville and the rest of the Gryffindor students waiting outside. Voices came from within the closed door.  
'What's going on, Neville?' Harry asked, gesturing to the door.  
Neville shrugged. 'He took the Slytherins in first. Said he wanted to talk to them before the lesson started…'  
Harry immediately pressed his ear to the door.  
'..so you'd better not be mean to my Neville, alright? He's the greatest person. I mean, when you read book 7 you'll be like YES NEVILLE. You will.' Harry wondered what Mark meant by that. 'Also, spoiler alert, you're gonna regret treating Harry badly 'cos everyone's gonna love him.'  
'But sir,' the characteristic tones of Malfoy responded, 'you can't honestly expect us all to be horrible to the Gryffindors, can you?'  
'Shush, you. I know what you do with apples at night.'  
Malfoy promptly shut up; Harry resolved to use that as ammunition against him later.  
'You can come in now, Gryffindors,' Mark called.  
Harry pushed open the door cautiously, wondering if the professor had known he was listening in; his worries immediately vanished as he saw how Mark had decorated his classroom.  
The room was filled with screens like Professor Colbert had used, each displaying pictures from what looked to Harry like an astounding variety of television shows and films; he even noticed his own face in one of them before Mark quickly switched it off. A giant bookshelf sat behind Mark's desk, which was furnished with the strange combination of an old-style blackboard and a high-spec modern computer; on the shelves were books of all kinds, all well-worn. A poster of Hagrid's face was poorly concealed under another bearing the logo of what Harry could only assume was a heavy metal band, and the ceiling, like that of the Great Hall, was ever-shifting, bearing messages to Mark from all kinds of people scrolling endlessly under a large block of text titled 'Mark Reads Sandman.'  
The most Muggle-savvy of the trio, Hermione, murmured, 'It's a blog, on his ceiling…'  
The most hungry of the trio, Ron, murmured, 'Why am I poorly characterised in this fic?'  
The most heroic of the three, Harry, murmured, 'This is all very suspicious. We should kill him.'  
Hermione groaned loudly. 'Stop wanting to kill every new professor on the off chance that they're evil!'  
'It would have saved us a lot of time,' Harry grumbled.  
'Sit down,' Mark instructed the class, who complied with interest. 'So basically, I'm not really gonna teach you much.'  
There was a murmur of surprise, interspersed with munching from the continually Flanderized Ron – not that he had ever been on TV Tropes.  
'I just like telling a good story,' Mark grinned, shedding his robes to reveal a rather more casual attire underneath. He sat down and swivelled in his chair, withdrawing a thick book from his shelf. 'Right, so you guys are year… Four? Five?'  
'Six, Professor,' Hermione answered rapidly.  
'Thank you, Miss Granger,' Mark replied, before giggling slightly. 'Miss Granger. Sounds stupid when you've read the books. Anyway, y'all have got a whole lot of Voldemort and plot and stuff to look forward to, so… Here we go. Half-Blood Prince.'  
'That wasn't on the set books list, Professor,' was Hermione's immediate response.  
'Yeah, I know, but trust me, this book will save all your lives more times than any set text could.'  
Malfoy scoffed at that.  
'You don't believe me?' Mark said, raising an eyebrow and a single finger. 'In a few months you'll be thanking me for telling you to avoid that bathroom you were gonna get Sectumsempra'd in.'  
Everyone shared a look of scepticism at that point, but all undeniably felt interest at his words.  
'Right. So. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Chapter one.'  
Everybody looked at Harry, who shrunk into his chair.  
'Ooh, wait, I need to start writing this up.' Mark clicked the mouse on his desk and the ceiling changed into a blank page. 'Mark Reads Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, chapter one,' he typed, the words appearing on the ceiling. 'Oh, wait,' he suddenly caught himself, 'this chapter doesn't have you guys in. Hang on a minute, I'll just type up ALL THE FEELS I feel about it and skip to the bit that concerns you.'  
After a few minutes of solid typing, Mark saved the blog post and opened a new one. 'Right. Um.. Spinner's End… Oh yeah, Snape was a Death Eater, you guys, but he loves Harry's mom now.'  
Harry smashed his head into the table.  
'Next chapter… Slughorn… wait, hang on.' Mark closed the book. 'I'm in the book now. There's a description of me reading the book to you, in the book.'  
'This is a fanfic,' Ron said loudly.  
'Oh, I like those,' said Mark with mild interest.  
'I mean, c'mon,' Ron continued, 'we're all horribly realised and acting totally out of character. At a guess, this is an amateur writer's attempt to bring a guy he likes into the Harry Potter universe, breaking the fourth wall in the process and resulting in a literary paradox.'  
Everyone gaped.  
'See?' Ron said. 'Out of character. Anyway, I reckon this is a long enough story for the author to have achieved whatever he needs to feel he's achieved, so we may as well leave it there.'  
Mark nodded. 'I'll leave this here in case anyone wants to know their future,' he said cheerfully, plonking the book on his desk.  
Everyone waited awkwardly for a moment.  
'I'd wager the author doesn't know how to end it,' Ron mused, 'so it's probably about to end horribly awkwardly in the middle of a –'

THE END


End file.
